They made me move out of my perfect apartment. Some high-flying company decided that their executives needed the house with one red wall more than I did. The landlord's compliance was purchased with a princely sum of money. The roomie and I looked around for a week or so. It made me realize certain things all over again:
1. Moral policing is a landlord's definition of value addition.
2. This whole metropolis thing is a sham to disguise mindsets which are narrower than Slimfast powered waistlines and more medieval than all the assorted K soaps.
3. If you're unmarried, your virtue (?!) is to be guarded zealously by conducting random checks on your household, for your safety of course.
4. If you're single/non-Hindu/slightly independent of mind, you should live on the street.
5. If you don't believe that owning a house makes people demigods, you should live in the gutter that flows by the street.
6. In your house hunt, you will say 'uncle' more times than you have ever said in the rest of your life.
7. Wine shop owners are not appropriate landlords. After a while, the fumes go to their heads.
Let me decode it for you. We fell in love with a beautiful, fully furnished place owned by aforementioned wine shop guy. After packing for two days, hiring transport and moving in, the guy hectored us for an hour for having 'itna zyaada saaman'. Then he proceeded to humiliate a friend who had come to help us because he happened to be male. The same night, we moved to another place where the landlord was easier to live with simply because he doesn't live in Mumbai. So if something seems too good to be true, it is, really.
One more of my teeth has decided to go to the Great Big Mouth. Of course, the process of its demise is exceedingly painful and equally expensive. To top it all, I'm supposed to be churning out creative ideas to garner new clients while my head feels an electrocuted, overly tuned guitar wire.
She came to visit me for barely three days, out of which one day went to the dogs because I was travelling on work. Woe is me for ever imagining that work related travel could be interesting and fun. The work is interesting, yes, but the travel is an exercise in wishing you were elsewhere. Of course, there are also moments when you discover new facets to your personality. Like the moment when I shut up two loudmouths who weren't letting the other participants talk, simply by being politely rude. Now that was fun.
At one research trip, I managed to lose my glasses for almost three hours. Three hours of blundering my way through a blurred world, trying to convince myself that I could conduct a serious group discussion wearing sunglasses. And some people should really stop with the 'Tough Love' pep talks. Unless you've walked a mile in my shoes, or seen the world with my very poor eyesight, skip the lecture.
And then, Michael Jackson died. I mean, is it funny to someone up there?
And yes, I really meant every word of the post title.